Breakfast In Bed (Fully English Sequel)

Chapter 22

The interrogation began deceptively light. I am seated at a table without a lawyer in tow. An officer that is not PC Yates is entering and exiting, yo-yoing along an invisible washing line back and forth into the room. Items are placed on the table: a recording device, transparent plastic bags, a notepad and pen, a page of written rights and a pen angled diagonally on it. There are a pair of rectangular, thin-framed spectacles near the edge.

"PC Friars," the policeman enters for the final time with a woman not far behind, another constable with a grim expression and a spill of straight hair. "My name is PC Friars." His eyes latch onto his glasses which he pushes up the white mountain of his nose. On either side of the summit were the solid blue-grey washing machines he carried in his head for eyes. Just like their metaphor, they were just as dizzying and I had to turn my eyes downwards to keep from getting lost.

Light-headedness separated my head from the rest of my body. I watched my fingers flex around the pen, print my name in capitals.

KARMA OLSON

My signature followed and then the hand lay flat, nails twitching in metallic blue. The food I have requested is in my lap, a ham, and cheese and lettuce sandwich, waiting to be eaten in its ruptured packaging. The slices of filling sit atop one another in linear format, encased by cold, dry halves of bread. The hunger I had arrived at the station with extinguished once I had opened it. Now I am settling for the taste of saliva to keep my stomach from spinning like a roundabout in a park.

"So how are you?" PC Friars sat before me thinly.

The woman beside him introduced herself with a name I forget. I know PC Friars is the one in charge by the presence he wields; the puff of his chest and his controlling gaze. There is nowhere that my eyes can travel to that he won't follow politely, a few seconds later like he is my disciple. I become Jesus pinned to the cross with my arms spread wide, ready to die.

Take your best shot, I demand in my head.

And he is aiming I can tell, where it will hurt most.

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Never been better."

The woman's plain fingers take the page from in front of me and she scans it holistically.

"By signing this page, you've elected to have legal representation which will either be provided to you or summoned of your own accord, do you understand this?"

Her ending syllable posits a question that I cannot answer. Whether I do have legal representation of my own accord. If my own partner can put in place a lawyer for me to defend me against the allegations that are about to come my way, like he had before.

"I'm going to need the provision." I accept defeat and watch her eyes coast away to the door. She stands and exits to talk to somebody and I am left with PC Friars, alone.

"Do you know what you're doing here Mrs Beaufort?"

"Miss Olson," I correct. "Karma, call me Karma."

I repurpose myself for the sake of the interview, go back to basics. Of who I am. First name basis. Not tethered to any man anymore. Standalone.

"Karma, do you know why you're here today?"

Finally I shake my head, await the blow that comes first. "No but I assume you're going to tell me."

"The charges you have been arrested on are on three counts: the first being the conspiracy to kidnap Wren Beaufort, the second being the conspiracy to murder George Levantine and the third being to pervert the course of justice. We can start the interview when your lawyer arrives, my colleague should be a few moments. Do you understand/"